MUREX- Slow Fall

New Roads is a retro-tinged alt-rock album built on late-night neon, emotional reckoning, and the uneasy thrill of starting over. With a 90s-inspired edge and a modern sense of atmosphere, it follows a journey from identity confusion and isolation into hard-won confidence, resilience, and self-definition. Buy the album, will ya? https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/mur... Produced by Mark Bucher Parallax Records 2026 I packed my doubts into an empty suitcase, slammed the lid and walked away Tore the map my mother drew in anger, spit the ink back at yesterday City lights were strangers’ names and every mirror learned to lie I cut the rope, I cut the cord, then watched the night ask me why There’s a silence in the static, a whisper under skin Like an echo asking loudly for the shape I’m folded in Who am I when no one’s calling me? When the anchors snap and the shoreline’s gone Am I the voice inside the empty room, or the shadow chasing dawn? Who am I when freedom feels like a slow fall? Tell me something steady, tell me something true Am I me, or the idea of me I drew? I learned to sharpen silence into something I could wear, spoke my name into the dark Bought a mirror from a sidewalk prophet, paid in pennies for a spark Stumbled through cheap conversations like a kid who lost his voice to time Collected pieces of a face from strangers’ smiles, tried to lace them into mine Fingers fumble with the lighting, every stranger wears a mask Every promise that I’d practiced begs the question: is this freedom at last? Who am I when no one’s calling me? When the anchors snap and the shoreline’s gone Am I the voice inside the empty room, or the shadow chasing dawn? Who am I when freedom feels like a slow fall? Tell me something steady, tell me something true Am I me, or the idea of me I drew? Give me the ugly, give me the quiet, give me the parts that don’t belong Give me the fault lines in the lyric, give me the reasons I was wrong I’ll stitch them into something breathing, a ragged flag that somehow flies If I’m just a mirror made of fractures, I’ll learn to read my own replies No medals on my jacket, no scripture on my tongue Just a trail of small admissions crawling out...one by one I count the scars like stutters, and I inventory my flaws Call it progress or relapse- I'm grasping at straws Who am I when no one’s calling me? When the anchors snap and the shoreline’s gone Am I the voice inside the empty room, or the shadow chasing dawn? Who am I when freedom feels like a slow fall? Tell me something steady, tell me something true Am I me, or the idea of me I drew? Maybe I'm the echo and the call The open road, the broken wall The space between the notes I hum The beat that pulls me back from numb Who am I? - the question keeps me breathing, keeps me true Maybe I'm the mess and the miracle, the old and the new ...